The bunker had never been glamorous. Its entrance was a low concrete opening cut into the rock, its interior lined with shelves, drums of obsolete machinery parts, and a row of cast-iron engine blocks covered in tarps. Sarah had installed a small emergency lighting system after a winter storm left the property without power for three days. When she switched it on, a dull light spread across the shelves and illuminated the worn stenciled numbers on the back wall.
Noel sat on a crate, one hand pressed against his knee. He was breathing hard after the climb, and Sarah cursed herself for bringing him into a situation that belonged to people half his age. He noticed her expression and waved her concern away. His wife had died four years earlier, and he had spent enough nights alone to insist on choosing where he would be useful.
"I'm not the helpless one here," he said. "The kid looks like he's going to fall over."
Evan was holding the handrail by the entrance. His face was pale, and sweat made his hair cling to his forehead despite the cooling air. Sarah brought him water from the emergency supplies she kept for power failures and told him to sit.
"I didn't know about the bike," he whispered. "I swear to you."
"I believe you saw something you didn't understand," Sarah said. "That's different from knowing what it meant."
"I knew Billy didn't want me asking questions."
"And now you're asking them. That's a start."
Evan looked at Wyatt. "They're going to call me a rat."
Wyatt crouched across from him, moving slowly enough not to seem threatening. "They might," he said. "They might call me worse. But you don't owe anybody your life just because he gave you a leather vest."
Evan covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook once, then settled. Sarah left him alone because she suspected the silence was doing more for him than another reassurance would.
Outside, the first motorcycle engine sounded in the far distance. Another joined it, then a third. Sarah looked toward Wyatt, and the expression she found on his face confirmed what she already suspected. Graham had decided the danger of witnesses was greater than the danger of showing up personally.
"This isn't a secret anymore," she said. "The sheriff knows. Walsh knows. Billy's talked to an attorney. What does Graham think he can accomplish by coming here?"
"He thinks if he makes us afraid enough, we'll tell everybody it was a mistake," Wyatt said. "He has never been good at understanding when a threat stops working."
"That sounds familiar," Noel muttered. "Had a foreman like that on a construction job once. He kept threatening to fire the crew even after the whole crew quit."
No one laughed. The engines drew closer, and the gravel lot began to answer with the hollow sounds of heavy tires rolling over uneven ground. Wyatt stepped toward the entrance, but Sarah stopped him with a raised hand.
"Nobody goes out there to prove anything," she said. "We're waiting for the deputies."